Just Join the Boy Scouts
by MooseyDoom777
Summary: In a state of drunken stupidity, Ms.Cartman signs Eric up to be a Girl Scout. Yes,I said Girl Scout. ::UPDATE:: Slight Slash (slight, yeah)
1. The Stupidity of Ms Cartman

Hello, and welcome to another sick installment of whatever the hell goes on in my mind! Today, I shall most likely mortally offend many (if not all) South Park fans by writing this piece of garbage. But I'm a South Park fan too, so hah. Yeah, that's right, I went there. Now that my ramblings are somewhat finished, on with the Fic!

Disclaimer: If I really owned South Park, would I be writing this?

* * *

"Bye, hon!" called Ms.Cartman to her horribly obese son, who was currently reclined on the couch. "I'll be back from the South Park Formal in a few hours. I left the number on the fridge in case he needs me," she told her son's brave(and incredibly strupid) babysitter.

"Yeah, sure, whatever," the teen replied. "Have fun at the dance thing." Ms.Cartman

smiled and started to leave.

"Bye sweetie, mommy loves you!" she said to Cartman again.

"Ay! Shut up! Terrance and Philip is on! Stupid lazy ass whore…" he mumbled. Ms.Cartman smiled at him and exited her house, confident that her son would behave and that this would be a great party. If all went well, Eric would be asleep when she arrived home and she could sneak a few men into her room. She grinned. This would be a great night…

/ Back at the Cartman's /

The babysitter (who we will now call 'Susan') is talking to her boyfriend while Cartman stuffs his cat into the washing machine. Blood-curdling kitty screams can be heard from miles away.

/ Back to Ms.Cartman /

Yes, she had such a good son she thought as she pulled into the parking lot of the huge rec building. Tons of other cars were already there. "I must be late", she thought. It looked like this was a pretty popular party. Ms.Cartman finally found a parking space and exited her car. She walked into the building and saw a drink table. It was supposedly "fruit punch", but everyone knew that Jimbo had spiked the drinks. Well, everyone except for Ms.Cartman. Being late, she had not seen this happen. She immediately went to the table and grabbed a drink. The other adults gaped in horror. At least the women did. The men, however, were looking forward to this. Jimbo had brought some pretty strong stuff.

Ms.Cartman ignored them and took a sip. All of a sudden, she felt very strange. "Maybe I'm coming down with something," she thought as she took another drink. After a few more sips, she started acting strange. She would giggle for no reason, and she started flirting with everyone. Even a few of the women. "What a great party," she thought to herself as she started talking to the wall.

/ A few hours later /

Ms. Cartman was making-out with Mr. Hat when she heard Lez Bian asking something to a group of parents. She heard the words 'child', 'club', and 'fun'. She got up and staggered over. "What's this about a club?" she slurred.

"Oh, I'm just asking if any parents want their kids to join the Girl Scouts," Lez replied. "But you have a son, so you wouldn't be interested in-," she was cut off by Ms. Cartman.

"I would _love_ to sign Eric up. He'd love it!" it was clear to Lez that Ms. Cartman was drunk.

"No, no, no. To be a Girl Scout, you have to be _a girl_," Lez told Ms. Cartman.

"Is that an official rule?" she questioned. Lez paused and pulled out a manual. She flipped over to 'Rules and Restrictions'. Lez ran her finger down the page and suddenly gasped in horror. Then she started to read.

"Due to complaints about discrimination," she read in a shaky voice, "boys may become Girl Scouts, if they actually _want_to become Girl Scouts, or if their drunk parents sign them up for it."

Ms. Cartman grinned and grabbed Lez's sign up sheet. She scribbled down 'Eric Cartman, age 9' on the paper. Laughing triumphantly, she promptly passed out, completely unaware of what she just did.

* * *

So there ya have it. The first chapter of 'Just Join the Boy Scouts'. What will happen to poor, poor Eric Cartman? That's for me to know and for you to find out. Eventually. If you want me to continue this story, please review. I need at least five reviews before I post the next chapter. Even though I'll probably post the next chapter anyway. Reviews just make the Leprechauns in my head work faster. Yes, before you ask I _did _make up the South Park Formal. Neat, huh? Tune in next time for the adventures of the assmaster-I mean Eric Cartman. Bye! 


	2. The Solution

Hello faithful readers! You came back! I knew you would! They said I was crazy, they said it didn't exist, but_ I knew_-er, never mind. Wrong rant, heh heh. Anyhow, I'm so grateful you've returned. I would tip my hat to you, if I were actually wearing a hat. Which I'm not. If you have any suggestions for the fic, please tell me. Thank you. Now heeeeerrrrreees Cartman!

Disclaimer: All I own is this computer, a bologna sandwich, and Pedro the donkey.

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"But Maaaaam," Cartman whined, "I don't wanna be a Girl Scout."

"I know sweetie," Ms.Cartman tried to console her son. She had just gotten out of super-hangover mode and had been starting to feel a little better. At least until the phone call had come.

Flashback

Three days after the party, Ms.Cartman is making herself a cup of coffee. The phone rings and Cartman answers it (yes, miracles _do_ happen). "Hello," he says.

"Hello, is Eric Cartman there?" Lez asks.

"Talk to me," Cartman replies.

"Hi Eric! I just called to tell you that your plus-size uniform is ready. You can have your mom pick it up later today." Cartman pauses, confused.

"What the hell do you mean 'uniform'? I didn't order any goddamn uniform," Cartman grumbles into the phone. Lez gets nervous. She had a feeling this was going to happen.

"Your...Girl Scout uniform," she answers slowly. Cartman's eyes go wide. All is quiet for a moment until...

"MOOOOOMMMMMM!!!!!" In the kitchen, windows shatter and Ms.Cartman's coffee mug breaks. Car alarms go off outside, and dogs bark.

End Flashback

"Look, Eric, your mom already signed you up and the contract is binding." Lez was trying _again _to explain that he had no choice. You can't just _quit_ the Girl Scouts.

"Isn't there anything he can do?" Ms.Cartman begged. Lez paused for a moment.

"Well, if his troop wins the Girl Scout Troop of the Year Award, he _could_ quit immediately after that," Lez told her. Cartman's eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"And what, pray-tell, is the Girl Scout Troop of the Year Award?" he questioned.

"The Girl Scout Troop of the Year Award, or G.S.T.O.T.Y.A., is an award that goes to five girl scouts for excelling in a variety of girl-scouty things. Such as helping people cross the street, selling cookies, feeding the homeless, that sort of thing. Once a troop wins it, they are all declared Honorary Scout Masters and they each get one thousand dollars. Only Scout Masters can quit the Girl Scouts, since there is no higher position than Scout Master," Lez explained. Cartman stared.

"One th-thousand dollars?" he stuttered. Lez nodded.

"One. Thousand. Dollars. Wow." Cartman was sold. Suddenly, he was struck by an idea. "You said five girl scouts, right?" Cartman asked.

"Yes," Lez answered. Cartman grinned.

"Then I'd like to sign up my four friends. Stan Marsh, Kyle Brofloski, Kenny McKormick, and Butters Scotch." Ms.Cartman gaped at her son.

"Eric, hon, are you sure-," Cartman's pleading face silenced her questions. "Um, yes, please sign them up right away." Lez sighed.

"All right. I take it they want to be on the same troop?" Ms.Cartman smiled and nodded. "Okay then, please print their names and ages on the line. Okay, all set. Now we just need their parents signatures."

"Signatures?" Cartman questioned.

"Yes, they need their parents permission before they can join," Lez answered simply. Ms.Cartman looked down at her son, wondering how in the world he was going to fix this.

"Fine. Mom, let's go get those signatures. And I'm hungry. I want a taco too." He turned back to face Lez. "I'll be back in a few hours and I **will** have those signatures. I swear I will." And with those final words, Cartman turned on his heel and stormed out of Lez's office, Ms.Cartman close behind. As Cartman and his mother entered the parking lot, and he yelled at her to hurry up and start the car, the mind of Eric Cartman was already thinking up a way to convince his unfortunate friends to actually go threw with this.

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So that's chapter two. Probably didn't live up to your expectations, did it? Well, I hope that you at least _mildly_ enjoyed it. Chapter 3 will be posted as soon as I can get it up. Remember, click it or ticket! And review. That would also be good. Adiós!


	3. Sure, I'll Join

A/N: Greetings, people, and welcome to another installment of this...story...thing. Thank you for all of the wonderful reviews I got. It really made me work faster. Someone pointed out that chapter 2 ended in an unfinished sentence. Well I fixed that so thanks for pointing out that error! I added a disclaimer, too. And I brought up my Spanish grade! Woo-hoo!

Disclaimer: Hahahahahahahaha! Like I _really_ own South Park!

* * *

"Dammit!" Stan cursed at the game screen. Kyle and Kenny were over at his house playing his Ocamma Game Sphere. He had lost _another_ life and Kenny was winning. Kenny was laughing at him.

"You suck, dude," he giggled. Stan glared and was about to reply when the doorbell rang. Before Stan could even get up to answer it, Cartman walked in.

"You know, you could've waited for me to actually answer the door fatass," Stan told him. Cartman frowned.

"Ay, I'm not fat. I'm big boned!" he said as he wiped some taco crumbs off of his face. From across the room, Kyle rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, whatever. What do you want Cartman?" Stan asked. Cartman cleared his throat in a business like way.

"Well," he said, "how would you guys like the opportunity to win 1,000 dollars. Each." Stan and Kenny's eyes got wide. Kyle's eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"And what would we have to do to get the money?" he asked. Cartman smiled. He had been preparing for this.

"All you guys would have to do is join a certain _club_ and help me win a certain award." Kyle still wasn't convinced.

"And what," he asked, "is this _club_ called?" Cartman's smile never left his face.

"The Girl scouts," Cartman answered simply. His friends just sat there in complete silence for a few moments before breaking out in laughter.

"You have _got_ to be kidding me," Stan choked out. Kenny and Kyle had calmed down, but their shoulders were still shaking with suppressed giggles.

"Fine, if you guys don't want one thousand dollars then I'll just go ask someone else," Cartman replied. This was a bluff, of course. Cartman needed Stan, Kyle, and Kenny or he would never be able to convince Butters to come.

"Sure I want the money, but not that much," said Stan. Kyle nodded in agreement. Kenny, however, was looking at his hands.

"I'll do it," Kenny said quietly. Stan and Kyle spun around and stared at their friend. Cartman grinned.

"I need the money," Kenny explained. "The school fined me $957.86 that time a beam fell on my head. I still need to pay them back." Stan looked back at Cartman.

"I'm still not joining," he said. Suddenly, a piece of Stan's roof fell down and crushed Kenny, taking the Game Sphere with it.

"Oh my God! They killed Kenny! You bastard!" Kyle yelled to the ceiling. Stan was staring open-mouthed at the demolished game.

"M-my Game Sphere," stuttered Stan. Cartman snorted.

"Well, well. Looks like somebody's going to need to buy a new Ocamma Game Sphere, and replace part of his parent's roof. I believe that will cost quite a bit of money," Cartman said happily. Stan sighed.

"Okay, I'll join." Stan turned to look at Kyle. "Well," he said.

"Well _what_?" replied Kyle. Stan looked at him like he was an idiot. Kyle frowned.

"Fine. I'll join, too. Not like I have anything better to do," said Kyle. Cartman smiled. He had actually convinced his friends to go.

"Great. Now we just need your parents to sign this piece of paper saying that you can go." He held up a piece of paper. "Stan, where are your parents?" Stan pointed upstairs. Cartman grabbed his wrist and drug him to his parents room. There were loud groans and moaning coming from inside of the room. Cartman opened the door.

Inside, Mr. Marsh was trying to move the dresser. By the looks of it, he wasn't making any progress. Mrs. Marsh was watching him with amusement. Cartman cleared his throat. Mrs. Marsh looked over.

"Hello boys. Is there anything I can do for you?" she asked smiling. Stan looked at her.

"I-I want to join the Girl Scouts," he told her. Mrs. Marsh's mouth dropped open. Mr. Marsh stopped moving the dresser and stared at his son.

"You _what_?" he asked. Stan was blushing.

"_I want to join the Girl Scouts_," Stan repeated himself. Mrs. Marsh smiled weakly.

"I guess if you really want to you can-" She was cut off by Mr. Marsh.

"No, Stan, you can _not_ join the Girl Scouts. If you really want to be a scout so much, just join the boy scouts." He started to move the dresser again. Mrs. Marsh frowned and turned to her son.

"Is it allowed?" she whispered to Stan. Stan nodded. "Then you can. If you're absolutely sure that you want to," she added.

"He needs permission," Cartman told her. "So sign this." He handed her the paper and a pencil. She scribbled down her name and returned the paper to Cartman. Stan looked nervously to his father. Mrs. Marsh looked at him, too. She smiled encouraging at Stan.

"Don't worry, I'll deal with your father," She told him. Stan smiled.

"Thanks, Mom," Stan said to his mother. He kissed her on the cheek and Cartman and him left the room. As they shut the door, Stan heard a loud "thunk" and Mr.Marsh yell.

* * *

Kyle and Kenny, who had somehow re-appeared, were quietly listening downstairs. They were trying to hear what was going on up there. Kyle was extremely nervous about telling his mother. He hated to admit it, but Cartman was right. His mother _was_ a bitch. Kenny's parents wouldn't mind. They could care less about what Kenny did in his spare time. As Kyle was thinking all of this, Stan and Cartman had come back downstairs.

"How'd it go?" Kenny asked. Kyle jerked his head up and watched his best friend. Cartman held up the piece of paper with Mrs. Marsh's signature on it. Stan was staring at his feet, blushing furiously.

"Next stop, Jew boy's house," Cartman said happily. Kyle didn't even bother to reply. His mind was full of the horrible images of his mother, and what she would do to him when he asked her. He gulped, and followed his friends outside into the freezing snow.

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What do you think? Will poor Kyle be able to stand up to the raving bitch that is his mother? We'll find out next chapter, so stay tuned! I'll work as fast as I can. Review, or my donkey, he will be sad!


	4. Team Assembled

A/N: (Thank the Gods, I have finally updated) Welcome to chapter 4, and I would just like to take this opportunity to congratulate you on making it this far without spontaneously combusting in disgust at my story! Thanks for all of your reviews. They filled my skull with painful joy! And Pedro (my donkey) is so very happy! Now on to the story!

* * *

Disclaimer: Me no own South Park. Me no own _any_ show. Me is so sad.

The boys trudged down the snowy sidewalk, Cartman in the lead, Kyle bringing up the rear. Kyle was taking as long as he could, and this was seriously annoying Cartman.

"Hurry up, Jew," Cartman growled in annoyance. Stan shot Cartman a nasty look.

"Don't call him Jew, ass-master," Stan said. Kyle mumbled a 'yeah' and nodded his head.

All too soon, they were heading up the steps to Kyle's house. They stopped at the door and waited for Kyle to let them in. As Kyle turned the doorknob, he prayed to God that his mother wasn't home. Fate was not with him, and he and his friends watched as Mrs. Brofloski sipped a cup of coffee.

"M-mom," Kyle started. She glanced at him.

"Yes, Kyle?" she asked. He swallowed. This was going to be _so_ embarrassing.

"Um, the guys wanted to know if I could join this club with them," he told her. She had a puzzled look on her face.

"And what club would this be?" she asked him. Kyle started sweating.

"The Girl Scouts," he said quietly. Mrs. Brofloski's eyes went wide. 'Here it comes' thought Kyle.

"No! You most certainly can_not_ join the Girl Scouts! Think of the example you'd be setting for Ike! Besides, it's for girls!" She paused and whispered to her son. "You're not..._gay_, are you Kyle?"

Kyle's face went bright red. Behind him, his friends snickered. "No! I'm not gay! And you can join the Girl Scouts if you're a boy! Stan and Cartman did!" Kyle yelled to his mother. She still wasn't convinced.

"I don't care Kyle. You can't join and that's it." Kyle looked down, a defeated look on his face.

"Fine. I won't join." He, Stan, and Kenny started to leave.

"Hey Kyle, lets go play in your room for a while," Cartman said. Kyle didn't like the look in Cartman's eyes, but he agreed nonetheless.

Cartman shut the door and locked it, not wanting to be overheard. His friends were staring suspiciously at him from various spots around Kyle's room.

"Well," Kyle asked, "what's your brilliant plan this time?" Cartman smirked.

"On my way to Stan's house I figured that Kyle's mom wouldn't let him join. Seeing as she's a fucking bitch." Cartman added the last statement just to piss Kyle off, and it worked.

"Don't call my Mom a bitch, Cartman!" He ignored Kyle and continued.

"So before I went to Stan's house, I had my mom drop me off at Jimbo's place. I "borrowed" some of that stuff he gave my mom. We'll slip some of that in her drink and she'll agree to _anything._" Cartman grinned at his friend's shocked faces.

"You _actually_ think that I'll spike my _own mother's_ drink?" Kyle asked him in disbelief.

"Nope," Cartman said, "that's why I'll do it." Stan thought this over.

"But we'll need a distraction," Stan thought aloud.

Just then, a loud crash was heard as Kyle's bedroom window shattered. Some 6th graders outside had thrown a rock threw the window. Kenny, who had been directly in front of said window, fell to the floor with a sickening 'thunk' as blood poured out of his new head wound. Stan looked at Kyle, who sighed, and took a deep breath.

"OH MY GOD!!! THEY KILLED KENNY!!!" Kyle screamed as loud as he could. Stan followed suit.

"YOU BASTARD!!!" he yelled.

Footsteps were heard as Mrs.Brofloski ran upstairs. As she stood staring in horror at Kenny's dead body, Cartman carefully snuck out of the room and made his way down the stairs. He could hear Mrs.Brofloski's shrieks to get a mop from all the way downstairs. 'Damn,' he thought, 'that bitch can _yell_'.

Cartman emptied the contents of a small vile into Mrs.Brofloski's coffee mug. Then he swirled the drink around so she couldn't tell that there was anything in it. Satisfied, he quietly went upstairs and back into Kyle's bedroom, just in time to see the rats finishing off Kenny's body.

"Poor, poor Kenny," Cartman said with a fake sigh. Mrs. Brofloski shook her head a few times, trying to forget what she had just witnessed.

"I'm just going to leave now. Kyle, stay away from the window," she said at last. Kyle just nodded as his mom left the room. As soon as she closed the door, the boys ran over to it and pressed their ears against the wood. They heard her walk down the stairs and sit down. Being as quiet as possible, the opened the door and watched in astonishment as she gulped down the drugged drink. They waited for about five minutes, until something happened.

They heard loud laughter and a lamp crash. Cartman grinned. It was working exactly as Jimbo said it would. He motioned for his friends to follow him and they all went downstairs. Mrs. Brofloski kept walking into the wall. There was a dent in it. Next to her, there were a million pieces of an antique lamp that she had knocked over. Kyle was staring at his mother in astonishment. She was acting like a complete idiot. Cartman nudged his shoulder, and Kyle walked up to her.

"M-mom," he started. She stopped and turned around.

"Hello neighbor," she said in a creepy Mr. Rogers way. Kyle gulped.

"Um, we need you to, uh". He felt bad tricking his mom like this. Cartman became frustrated and pushed Kyle over.

"Sign this," he said simply, handing her the paper and pencil. She giggled and scribbled something down. Handing the paper back to Cartman, she proceeded to walk into the wall again.

Cartman checked the paper. Amazingly, she had managed to sign her name. "C'mon, guys. We need to go get drunkie's signature". He was talking, of course, about Kenny's dad. The boys took one last look at Mrs. Brofloski before exiting the house.

* * *

Cartman banged on the door as Kenny materialized next to Stan. After a few moments, a tall man who smelled like beer opened the door. He grunted a hello. Cartman was about to say something but Kenny spoke first.

"Sign," Kenny told him. Cartman handed him the paper and pencil. Grunting, he wrote down his name, thrust the paper back into Cartman's hand, and slammed the door in their faces.

"Wow," Stan said, "that was easy". They all nodded in agreement. "So I guess we turn in the signatures now," he said to Cartman. Cartman shuffled his feet.

"_Actually_," he said with a guilty look on his face, "we need _five_ people." His friends stared at him. Kyle was the first to speak.

"So who did you have in mind for the fifth member?" he asked suspiciously.

"I was kinda gonna ask Butters," he mumbled. Kyle and Stan's mouths dropped open, and Kenny eyes widened.

"Butters? You can't be serious," Stan said.

"Well Butters _is_ gay, so he probably would be the best person," Kyle reasoned.

"Then lets go already. I want to get this over with," Kenny said. Cartman smiled.

"Alright," he said, "lets go."

And with that being said, the boys started their walk to the Scotch's house, where poor, unsuspecting Butters awaited.

* * *

Butters hummed to himself as he sketched out a little picture of his family at the beach. He didn't like the beach, with all the crazy lifeguards and mean sharks, but it was a pretty place to draw. Butters loved to draw, and he would every chance he got. He even drew on a schoolbook once, but he had to punish for that, yes siree. He winced at the memory of the door slamming on his fingers. He was jolted out of his pain-induced memories when his mom yelled at him from downstairs.

"Butters! Get down here! Your friends have something they need to tell you!" she yelled.

"Coming, Mom!" he yelled back. After carefully placing his drawing in a blue binder, he left his room and carefully walked downstairs. He didn't want to trip, after all.

He hopped off the last step and turned to go into the living room. He could hear Cartman's voice inside.

"It's a wonderful experience for your son. It teaches responsibility and respect, and all you have to do is sign this paper," Cartman was saying. When Butters walked in his mother smiled at him.

"Guess what sweetie? You're going to be a Girl Scout! You and your little friends are going to be in a troop together! Doesn't that sound fun?" Mrs. Scotch exclaimed in a happy voice.

"G-girl scouts?" he questioned. "The other kids will make fun of me if I'm in the Girl Scouts. I don't wanna join."

"No they won't, we're joining too," Cartman told him. "Besides, your mom already signed you up. You _have_ to join now."

"Well if you guys are joining, I guess I will," mumbled Butters. Mrs. Scotch smiled. She desperately wanted her son out of the house. This was the perfect opportunity.

"Great," she said, "now go do whatever it is you do, and please wipe your feet on the way out." She ushered the boys out of the house, and shut the door behind them. Butters blinked.

"Now what?" he asked. Cartman smirked.

"Now we go tell that bitch to give us our uniforms. Then the real work starts," he said.

"Then lets go," shouted Stan as he started running down the street. Kyle, Kenny, and Butters ran behind him, and Cartman growled in annoyance.

"Wait for me goddammit!" he yelled as he struggled to keep up with his much healthier friends. They quickly ran down the street, leaving the neighbors to wonder what the hell just happened.

* * *

For some reason, that took a _really_ long time to write. Sorry for the wait. I've been busy with schoolwork, so send flaming bags of dog shit at my math teachers house, not mine. I also made a web site, since my friend wouldn't shut up until I made one. I'm going to load some South Park images onto it later, so go see it if you want to. It's kinda JTHM themed right now. The link is on me home page. Yes, I _do_ advertise my stuff in stories. I do this because I can. As for the Mr. Rogers thing, he freaks me out, what with the fact that _he's on freakin' acid_! I mean _come on_, only a stoned dude would live in a dollhouse with little trains. I'll post chapter five as soon as I can, so don't claw your eyes out in frustration, it will come soon. Until next time, goodbye! 


	5. The Joys of Uniforms

Pointless Noize: Hey people. Sorry for the late update. I had family over for stuff. I ate turkey. It was delicious. As an apology for my lateness I give you this disturbingly short chapter! I suck, I know. So here's the fic…thing.

Disclaimer: I don't own South Park. If I did, more people would be annoyed with my shitty writing skills.

* * *

Stan, Kyle, Kenny, and Butters paused in front of an office door, as they waited for Cartman to catch his breath. After a few minutes of panting, Stan grew frustrated and kicked him in the shin. Glaring, Cartman opened the door. 

Inside, Lez was looking at a magazine and completely oblivious to the five children in front of her. Kenny's eyes bulged and he started giggling in a perverted way when he saw the cover. Lez heard him and, blushing, she quickly shoved it in her desk drawer.

Clearing her throat, she addressed the boys. "Ah, Eric, your back. Did you get the signatures?"

"Yeah, I did, so _ha_. I told you I'd get them," Cartman said smugly. Lez gritted her teeth. She _really_ didn't like that kid.

"Well then, bring them up." She checked them over and decided that they weren't forged. She glanced at the boys and sized them up. Silently, she stood up and walked over to a closet. She opened it up and pulled out five bright pink uniforms.

Stan, Kyle, Kenny, and Cartman's jaws dropped. Butters', on the other hand, looked at them excitedly. His favorite color _was_ pink, after all.

"You can't be serious," Kyle finally said. Lez just laughed at his shock and tossed over the uniforms.

"There's an empty room down the hall. You can change in there." Butters held his up. He smiles happily.

"Do we get real badges?" he asked her. She nodded her head and he gasped happily.

"You're a total faggot, dude," said an exasperated Stan. He did _not_ want to wear that, although seeing Kyle in it would be funny. Too bad he left his camera at home….Kyle tapped him on his shoulder, jerking him from his thoughts.

After six minutes of opening wrong doors and bothering people, they found an empty room and started to undress. Cartman looked even fatter without his coat, and Stan had a nice bruise from his sister on his chest. Kenny was all scraped up but that was no surprise. Butters had crushed fingers, but that was about it. But Kyle….

"Damn, Jew, do they feed you?" Cartman asked rudely. Kyle blushed and mumbled something. He was really thin. And I mean_ really_, _really_ thin. You could actually see the outline of a few of his ribs.

"Leave him alone, lardass. At least _he_ isn't 60 pounds overweight," Stan yelled at Cartman. Frowning, Cartman zipped up his plus-size uniform, elbowing Butters in the process.

Stan walked over to the large mirror in the room and studied himself. Kenny walked up next to him. Twirling around on one foot, with his shaggy blond hair whipping around, he kind of looked like a girl. Kind of. Butters skipped up next to him. Giggling, he flipped his hair. Cartman joined them, posing for a moment in front of the mirror. The boys weren't aware of how totally gay they all looked.

"Um, guys," came Kyle's voice from the back. "My uniform doesn't fit."

They turned around and struggled not to laugh at him. Kyle's skirt kept sliding down his thin waist, and he had to keep both hands grasped firmly around it to keep it up. Now Stan was _really_ mad that he didn't bring a camera.

"Maybe you should safety pin it, Kyle. Here, use these," Butters suggested. Kenny looked strangely at him.

"You…carry safety pins around?" Butters blinked.

"Y-yeah," he answered. Kenny shook his head.

"Never mind," he replied. Kyle had fished pinning up his skirt, and announced this by shaking around his cute Jewish ass.

"Look, it stays up!" he said happily. Cartman rolled his eyes.

"Whatever. Lets go already. Butters is starting to creep me out." Butters frowned and started mumbling apologies.

"Golly, I'm sorry, Eric. I didn't mean to creep you out. I'll be more careful next time," he apologized, his voice full of guilt. He looked up and realized they all left the room. He let out a squeak and ran out of the room hurriedly, zooming past the other offices in the building. A few people looked out as he dashed by. It wasn't every day a cross-dressing kid ran through the building.

Butters skidded to a halt when he reached Lez's office. He walked in just in time to see Lez hand Cartman a stack of papers. Butters walked up and peeked at the first paper. It was a cookie order form.

Lez told them to go out to the storage area and pick up the cookies. As soon as they got the cookies, they could start selling. They had to sell at least 500 boxes to get a badge.

"That's a lot of cookies," Stan said, stating the obvious. Lez nodded her head.

"I know," she said, "but that's how many you need to sell to be considered for a top cookie-selling award. Last year troop #116 sold _894 _boxes of cookies."

"How the hell are we supposed to sell 900 freakin' boxes of cookies?!" Cartman shouted. Lez shrugged.

"Beats me. Now get out of my office, please, I have…stuff…to do. Stuff, yeah." She shoved them out of the room and plopped down into her comfy leather chair. She wrenched open the dresser drawer and pulled out her magazine, giggling like an idiot the whole time.

Outside, Cartman started yelling a few select words, not aware that the authoress was trying to keep the story at a pg-13 rating.

"This sucks. We'll never sell that many cookies!" he screeched. Kenny patted him on the shoulder, trying to calm him down.

"Maybe we can," Kenny told him, "we just have to try. Everyone likes cookies." Cartman growled in annoyance.

"C'mon. Lets go get the boxes from the storage area. Maybe someone there can help us," Kyle said. They all left the area around Lez's office, but not before Cartman gave the door a final kick.

* * *

I wonder who they'll sell the cookies to. No, I really do. If you have any ideas of who they should bother, please let me know. They might actually listen. If anyone wants to guess what Lez was reading, I might do something nice if they guess right. Maybe, if I feel like it. Review, and make me a happy lil' camper! 


	6. Kenny Dies

Pointless Noize: I had momentum to write this, since I got so many nice reviews. I had a hard time deciding who the boys should sell to. But after much thinking and a threatening letter detailing my demise, I have finished this chapter! Thanks for all of your suggestions! There is a lot of Kenny in it and an… interesting twist. So drop all sharp objects and commence reading!

Disclaimer: I don't want the sun, I don't want the moon. I just wish I had South Park, but that won't happen anytime soon. (Rhymes are fun!)

* * *

"GET OUT OF HERE!" screeched a man in a cookie loading-dock uniform. Kyle's plan to get someone there to help them didn't exactly work. After Cartman's excessive whining, Butter's "gee wiz's" and "golly's", and a stack of crates falling on Kenny and killing him (gasp!) the workers weren't in a very helpful mood.

The four boys ran out as fast as they could, each carrying an armload of cookie boxes. They could hear the angry workers' screams even as they left the building. Kyle glared at Cartman.

"Nice going fatass. Now what are we supposed to do?" Cartman shrugged.

"We didn't need their help _that_ much, Jew." But it was clear that wasn't what Kyle had meant.

"No, I mean now Kenny's dead and we can't sell unless we're a group of _five_. Remember?"

"Well than we'll just wait for Kenny to come back. It only takes a couple hours," he replied. Kyle sighed.

"I guess so. I wanted to get an early start though…" Stan interrupted him.

"Let's go to Butters' house. His parents are out and I don't think my Dad wants to see me dressed like this." He gestured to his pink skirt. They all agreed, and headed towards Butters' house, stopping every few feet to prevent Cartman from eating the cookies.

* * *

Kenny giggled happily as he shot up and around space, waiting to get to Heaven's entrance. He had died so many times before that the shock had worn off, and now he could enjoy the experience more. Going up to Heaven was _way_ better than falling down to Hell. After helping Satan get rid of Saddam Hussein, he was granted access to Heaven.

He did a summer-salt inmid-air and landed on the soft, cloudy grounds of Heaven. But something wasn't quite right with this picture…

Usually he landed by a bunch of Mormons making things out of egg-cartons. There would be about twenty of them, and they would give him some punch and pie. But where he was now looked nothing like that.

There were about 30 or 40 huge buildings, and a hundred or so smaller ones. Smoke stacks towered over the place, and smoke was quickly billowing out of the top. There were people wearing uniforms rushing in and out of the buildings carrying plans and weapons, and there was one in the center that looked like the main building. But that wasn't the strangest part.

Each building had a giant chocolate chip cookie logo on the front, and as Kenny looked closer, the workers' uniforms did too. Even the weapons had the strange insignia on them. Kenny was so absorbed in trying to figure out what was going on, that he didn't even notice that he stood out like a pizza at a weight-watchers convention. That is, until someone poked him roughly on the shoulder.

He turned around and was met with the face of an extremely angry worker. "What are you doing here Kid? This is no place for children!"

Kenny blinked. "Um, I just landed here, but I'll be going now…" He started to walk away but the man grabbed his arm.

"Oh no you don't. You've seen too much. I have to take you to see the boss. He'll know what to do."

The man dragged Kenny into the main building and into a huge lobby. Kenny looked around and noticed the pretty secretary, but before he could get a good look he was dragged into an elevator. After that it was a right turn on the tenth floor, then a left turn, then through a large metal door with a security code and into a huge boardroom. The boardroom had a long wooden table, and someone was sitting in an expensive looking leather chair at the far end of it. It was turned around, so Kenny couldn't see the face.

The man cleared his throat. "Um, boss," he said, "I found this kid wandering around outside by one of the bomb factories, so I--" He was cut off by the person in the chair.

"So you brought him up here, allowing him to see the inside of the building which, I'll remind you, is _top secret_?" His voice was high pitched and annoying to hear. It sounded vaguely familiar but Kenny couldn't quite place it. He had heard it somewhere before…

The man shifted uncomfortably next to him. "I, uh, didn't think about that…" he stuttered. His boss snorted.

"Obviously." The man didn't look too happy right now. He was twitching and started apologizing.

"I-I'm sorry! I won't let it happen again! I promise!" A loud sigh could be heard from behind the chair. Kenny had a good idea about what was going to happen.

"No. No it_ won't_ happen again. I'm afraid you're going to have to leave now. Guards! Take Mr. Johnson to the torture chambers immediately!" Mr. Johnson screamed as two huge men in gray uniforms (with that stupid logo) came and drug him out of the room. The chair spun around and Kenny's mouth dropped.

Sitting casually in the chair, with one leg crossed and a bored look on his face was none other than Satan's ex-boyfriend, Saddam Hussein. He perked up suddenly when he saw Kenny. Kenny gulped.

"Hey, you're that kid that got me sent up here with all these fucking Mormons. I've been waiting for you to come! I've wanted to punish for the longest time, and you're finally here! Hold on a sec while I go get some weapons—Hey! Why are you wearing a Girl Scout uniform?" Kenny looked down and noticed that he was still wearing that damn outfit. He blushed and looked up.

"I'm, um, a Girl Scout." The room was totally quiet for a few moments until Saddam suddenly burst out laughing.

"No way!" he chocked out between laughs. "What kind ofboy would want to be a Girl Scout?! Are you selling cookies too?! I'll buy some! Hahahahahahaha!!!" Kenny frowned in annoyance. Suddenly, an idea struck him. It was a crazy idea, but it would keep him from walking around town in that uniform, at least for a little while…

"Well now that you mention it, I _am_ selling cookies. Would you be interested in buying any?" he asked sweetly. Saddam stopped laughing and stared at him.

"What did you say?" he asked. Kenny's smile grew wider.

"Well, if you buy some cookies from me, when I go back to Earth, and I always do, I might forget to mention the fact that you're building nuclear weapons in Heaven." He gaped at Kenny, completely shocked at the sudden turn of events.

"You wouldn't."

"I would."

He growled in annoyance. "Fine. How many boxes?"

Kenny thought for a moment. "1,000," he said finally.

Saddam sighed and pulled out a check. He scribbled something down and handed it to Kenny.

"Here's $5,000 dollars. That should cover it. I expect those cookies to be here within a week. Now go away." Kenny smiled happily and slipped the check into his skirt pocket. He skipped out of the room and in about five minutes, a puff of smoke enveloped him as he was revived and sent back to Earth.

* * *

So that's chapter six. If you didn't see the episode "Do the handicapped go to Hell?" then you probably had no idea what was going on. I just thought the idea of Kenny outsmarting Saddam Hussein was hilarious. I'm probably going to get flamed for this. Review please! Flames will be used to cook waffles! 


	7. Cartman's on his Period

Pointless Noize: Yes, it is true, I've actually updated. Sorry 'bout the wait. Oh, and there's a subtle hint of slash in this chapter. And by subtle, I mean screamingly obvious. If you don't like slash, don't review and say "Ew, that's nasty," because you have been warned. Once again, sorry about the wait. Review and I'll write faster. That being said, enjoy!

Disclaimer: Nope, I still don't own South Park. Go figure.

* * *

"Ow."

Kenny hit the ground as he regained consciousness. Normally this didn't hurt too bad, but unfortunately for him, he happened to land on Butters' couch, right when Cartman was coming out of the kitchen. Cartman didn't see him, and he plopped his fat rear end right on poor Kenny's body. Kenny groaned from the weight.

Kyle glanced up from the TV, and frowned at Cartman. "Hey! Get up, fatass, before Kenny dies _again_!"

It took Catman a few seconds to realize what Kyle meant. When he did, he quickly rolled off of the body beneath him, and Kenny gasped for breathe.

"You…fat fuck…" Kenny coughed out. Cartman grabbed a popcorn bowl and slammed it over Kenny's head.

"Ay! Don't call me fat, bitch! I do what I want, bitch!" Luckily, the bowl was plastic, so Kenny didn't die. It did succeed in giving him a nice throbbing headache, though.

"Aw, come on, fellas, don't fight! My parents will be awful mad if they see you fighting." Butters glanced nervously at the door, as if expecting his parents to walk in right at that very moment.

"Don't be such a pussy, Butters," retorted Stan.

"Yeah," said Kyle, "besides, we should probably get going. We have a lot of cookies to sell."

Kenny grinned. "Not as many as you think. I managed to unload a few hundred boxes in heaven."

The boys stared at him. "Really?" Kyle asked, "To who?"

"I ran into Saddam Hussein up there, and I convinced him to buy 1,000 boxes." Kenny's voice (however muffled it was) was filled with pride. Cartman snorted, ruining his happy moment.

"You're acting like it was hard or something. I could do that too, you know."

"Whatever, Cartman. Great job, Kenny! We probably won't have to sell any boxes now!" said a happy Kyle. He really didn't want to walk around in that uniform.

"Yeah, whatever," Cartman said, placing his feet up on Butters' coffee table and relaxing in the couch.

"So what do you guys wanna--" started Stan, but he was cut off by the doorbell. Butters quickly ran over to answer it; he mustn't be rude and keep his visitors waiting. He opened the door and even from the living room, the boys could here Wendy, Bebe, and three other girls cry in singsong voices, " Would you like to buy some cookies?"

Butters glanced back into the living room before replying, "Uh, n-no thanks, ladies, we're selling some of our own, s-so no."

Bebe blinked stupidly, and responded, "Why would you be in the Girl Scouts? You are a guy, right?"

Butters blushed bright red, but was saved the embarrassment of answering as the other boys came over. Immediately, Wendy's mouth dropped.

"S-Stan! Oh God! Y-You're gay, aren't you!"

"No, Wendy, I--"

"It's Kyle, isn't it! Nonononono, this isn't fair!" she cried. This time it was Stan and Kyle's turn to blush. Cartman snickered behind them, and nudged Kenny. The Blonde, however, was too busy looking at his classmates in skirts to respond.

"No, Wendy, Cartman made us sign up. I'm not gay," Stan quickly explained.

"That's not what you told me…" muttered Kyle. Luckily, no one heard him.

"Okay, so you're all a bunch of Girl Scouts. So, um, how many cookies did you guys sell?" asked Chelsea.

Cartman smiled proudly and said, "_I_ sold 1,000 boxes." He waited for the girls to gasp in shock, or at least congratulate him on his sale. To his surprise, they all started to giggle.

"That's _it_? We've sold, what, up to about 1, 356 by now. Right, Wendy?" asked Katie. Wendy nodded, still staring warily at Stan and Kyle. The boys stared in shock.

"You guys must really suck at selling stuff," Katie continued, "I mean, damn…"

Cartman's face was red with anger at this point. He was shaking with rage and Kyle knew what was going to happen, He pulled Stan and Kenny back just as Cartman lost it.

"_WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN, _"THAT'S IT"_! WE SOLD 1,000 FUCKING BOXES OF COOKIES! YOU'RE A BUNCH OF FUCKING WHORES, AND WE WILL BEAT YOUR SORRY ASSES! I BET WE SELL OVER 1,500 GODDAMN COOKIES!"_

Wendy fumed and yelled back at Cartman, "FINE! We'll take that wager! But if you don't sell over 1,500 boxes of cookies, then you have to, um, be our slaves…yeah, that's good…for a month!"

"And if we do sell over 1,500 boxes of cookies, then you have to be _our_ slaves! Deal?" Cartman stuck out a pudgy hand.

Wendy grabbed it and shook hard. "Deal." She let go of his hand and spun around, her friends following suit. They all stormed off, presumably to continue selling cookies.

Cartman gave them a farewell glare before turning to face his friends. Butters was is shock from Cartman's forceful yelling, and was gripping onto Kenny. Kyle stared angrily at Cartman, who had, once again, succeeded in getting them into a whole mess of trouble.

"Nice going, dumb fuck, now we have another problem."

"Yeah," Stan added, "It's just our luck that Wendy shows up when he's on his period." Cartman frowned.

"Shut the fuck up you guys, seriously."

Kenny rolled his eyes. "Whatever, fatass. Hey! Isn't that Craig?"

It was indeed Craig. Him, Tweek, and Token ran over, though the boys weren't too happy about being seen in skirts by their classmates.

"Hey, what's up," Stan asked, trying to act casual while still trying to keep his skirt to stay down right. Craig grinned.

"We heard Cartman yelling, and, well…"

Kyle blinked and prompted them to go on. "Well what?" Craig grinned again.

"We want to help."

* * *

More slash? More not-slash? Midget clowns? C'mon people, feedback...


	8. Kenny has connections

Pointless Noize: Awww…sniff All of your nice reviews made me so happy. I love you all. ANYWAY, due to popular demand, I am going to keep the slashy flavoring of the story. Even when I just started writing this, I knew this was gonna have some kind of twisted slash subplot. Hopefully, slash does not offend any of you. If it does then, well, deal with it. Oh, and for those who don't know, slash is a male/male pairing. Since they're only 9, it's going to be extremely light. So if you're gonna flame me, at least put something constructive in it. Thank you. Oh, and I got my first fanart for the fic! It's from Mr. Baka, an authoress here. She's more commonly known as Kirya, and a link to her art can be found in my bio. Go see it. FANART! SQUEE!

Disclaimer: If you think I own South Park, then I pity you. I really do.

* * *

Kyle, along with the rest of his friends, was extremely confused. Craig? Help? Them? Token spoke, ending the awkward silence. 

"It is alright if we help, right?" he asked. Cartman was the first to snap out of the trance.

"Why would you want to help…?" he asked skeptically. Craig answered.

"Because we don't want you guys losing a bet to a bunch of…girls." He wrinkled his nose in disgust. Behind him, Tweek nodded feverously. Craig continued, "Only real men, like ourselves, should be considered champions of _anything_, even sissy Girl Scout awards."

Butters blinked. "Y-you would help us? Really? Aw, shucks, t-that sure is nice of ya, and all…"

Kyle poked Stan on the shoulder and whispered in his ear, "I don't know if we should trust them. This is Craig, after all…" Kyle's worries were met with agreement by Stan, who nodded his head in reply. Cartman, however, was already agreeing to let them help, and once Cartman decided something, there was no changing his mind. It seemed they would be stuck with Craig and his band of misfits.

"So," Cartman began, getting right to the point, "what do you have in mind?" Craig smirked, and Tweek twitched.

"C-Craig is smirking! Oh God, oh Jesus, this is bad! We're gonna get in soooo much trouble!" he yelled frantically.

"Don't worry, Cartman, my plan is full proof," Craig assured him. He leaned in, and began whispering in his ear, and the more he said, the more Cartman's grin grew.

* * *

Wendy fumed, mumbling and cursing as the girls continued their march towards houses, trying to sell some more cookies for their troop. Sadly, their efforts were in vain, because the last few blocks had experienced Wendy's rage. Every time they would knock on a door, Wendy would start screeching about Kyle stealing her boyfriend, thus resulting in the house's owner not answering said door. And this was seriously pissing Bebe off. 

"I mean, who does Kyle think he is! Cuddling up to Stan like that when Cartman started yelling, it makes me sick! I mean, Stan is straight; he's even going out with me again! Kyle is such a conniving little--" Wendy was silenced by Bebe's hand.

Hand still firmly placed over Wendy's mouth, Bebe began to speak. "Wendy? Seriously? Calm down."

Wendy fumed. "I am calm! I've never been calmer in my entire life!" Bebe rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, you're calm, alright. And I'm dating the Anti-Christ."

Somewhere, a little British boy's head perked up, confused.

"Alright, I'll admit it, I am a little upset." Bebe raised an eyebrow.

"A _little_?"

"Alright, _very_ upset. But you would be too, if your boyfriend's best friend was a faggy little whore!"

"Uh, Wendy, I think you're forgetting that Kyle dated me. And I'm a girl. Girl plus guy equals straight," she explained in a slow, calm voice, as if Wendy was a retarded child.

"Uh, right. Hehe, whoops."

Bebe decided it was safe to continue their mission, and the girls successfully sold a few more boxes of cookies, blissfully unaware of the horror that awaited them.

* * *

"So what is this place called?" asked Stan. 

"I told you, it's called "The Inferno," and it's the BEST strip club around." Craig scoffed, as if this were the most obvious thing in the world.

Kenny smirked. "It's my favorite one."

Butters flinched. "B-but fellas, I don't see how this is gonna help us. Are we trying to sell the strippers cookies? C-cause my mom said strippers only eat white gravy, whatever that is..."

"Shut up, bitches. We're here." Cartman's voice was filled with excitement. He already had a good feeling about this.

They had reached a large building down town. Music vibrated (haha, pun) from the inside. Young men were entering the club at an extremely fast pace. There was a large, muscled man with dark glasses guarding the door, checking for ID's. Cartman spun around and pointed a pudgy finger at Craig.

"You didn't tell us we needed ID's, butt-pirate! Now what are we gonna-" Token tapped him on the shoulder and pointed at the bouncer.

Kenny had walked over to him and started talking. He pointed to his friends and said something that made the bouncer laugh. He walked back over, a grin visible even through his parka.

"C'mon. We're allowed inside." Kyle gaped.

"How did you-what did you-huh?" Kenny laughed.

"I know that guy. His name is Frank, and he usually works here around one, but he switched shifts with Steve today." Stan raised an eyebrow.

"How exactly do you know him?" Kenny smiled wide. "I come here every Friday."

Stan was taken aback."Oh."

"Enough talking! We need to put my brilliant plan into action!" said Cartman. Craig raised an eyebrow.

"_You're _plan?" Cartman rolled his eyes.

"Fine, _our_ plan. Happy now? Good. C'mon!"

As they strolled inside, many strippers greeted Kenny, commenting on how nice he looked and how they weren't positive for AIDs, so he had nothing to worry about. Kenny's calm demeanor was completely opposite of his friends'. Tweek was twitching violently, Token was staring politely at the ground, Stan and Kyle had suddenly decided to "learn" and were constantly saying "What's that for?", Butters was expressing his beliefs that Strip clubs "weren't very nice", Craig was being Craig and ignoring the whole thing, and Cartman was…missing.

"Where the hell is Cartman!" Stan had to shout to be heard over the noise of the club.

"Over there!" Craig shouted back, and he pointed to a door towards the rear of the club. It looked like some sort of office. Cartman was banging on the door, trying to force himself inside. Kenny sighed and walked over, shaking his head and saying, "Eric, you moron."

"What are you doing, Cartman?" He looked over at his hooded friend and replied, "Talking to the manager."

"Uh-huh."

"I AM!"

"Right. How about you let me do the talking?" Cartman frowned.

"……Fine. But hurry up! We don't have all day!" Kenny banged on the door three times, paused, and hit it once more. The door slowly opened, allowing Kenny to swiftly walk inside, before it shut again. Several moments later, he emerged, and happily told everyone that the manager had agreed.

Craig, who had walked over with everyone else, smirked. "Now all we have to do is get the girls over here."

Kyle, being the smart one, pointed out a flaw. "How are we going to get them here? It's not like they go to strip clubs all the time." Craig opened his mouth, but quickly shut it.

"Uh, good question." Cartman stifled a giggle.

"I know what'll get Wendy over here…" He turned his gaze to Stan and Kyle. They gulped.

"No, Cartman, no fucking way."

"Aw, c'mon! You don't have to really do it! Just…pretend!"

Kyle pulled on Stan's shirt. "Stan, w-what does he want us to do?" Stan clenched his fist.

"You now how jealous Wendy gets. He wants us to…pretend to…kiss…or something…right?" Cartman allowed himself to giggle at this.

"Yep!" Kyle visibly paled. Craig had a thoughtful look on his face.

"That could work…yeah, that'll definitely work!" Butters looked around, confused.

"W-what's so weird about two guys k-kissin'?" Thankfully, no one heard him, for they were too busy forcing Stan and Kyle into a back room. Kenny was pushing them the hardest, and instructing them on what to do.

"Now we want this to sound convincing, so make sure you say each other's names a lot, and pant or something when you do. Knock something over so it sounds like you're moving around a lot, and make sure you--"

"Jesus, Kenny, how do you know all of this!" Before Kenny could reply, Cartman gave them one final push, and the two fell into the small room.

"Tweek and I will go tell Wendy," Craig said. "You guys finish setting up here." They ran out of the club and began searching the streets for the girls, while Cartman and Token started moving items around in the club. Kenny had his ear pressed to the door where Stan and Kyle were, and was trying to listen. He would occasionally inform them that they were "doing it wrong." Luckily, none of the adults noticed or cared, and some actually found amusement in watching the strange children.

Thank God for drunk adults.

* * *

After a brief period of searching, Craig heard a screech that sounded suspiciously like Wendy's. It turned out it was Wendy, along with Bebe and the others, and Wendy had lost all composure and was once again fuming. Perfect timing… 

The boys casually walked up, and Craig tapped Wendy on the shoulder. "Hey Wendy!" She spun around, her eyes bright with rage.

"Fuck off!" Craig gave her a worried look.

"I just wanted to tell you something about Stan…" Her anger turned to concern in a heartbeat. Can you say "bi-polar"?

"What's wrong! Is he okay! TELL ME!" He glanced at Tweek, giving him his cue. They needed panic, and no one was better at that then Tweek.

"IT WAS A-AWEFUL! I told them to s-stop twitch I d-did GAH! But they d-didn't AHH listen!"

Wendy gasped. "Didn't stop what! WHAT!" Tweek twitched and continued his rant.

"Stan said 'N-no Kyle! STOPPIT!' But K-kyle just k-kept on, and t-then S-stan gave in, and they ran in t-the closet, and-and-and THEY'RE MAKIN' OUT!" He waved his arms in the air to emphasize his point. Wendy was close to tears.

"W-what? S-stan is g-g—GAY! WAAAHHH!" She wailed, her eyes spilling out tears. Bebe grabbed her and patted her shoulder.

"There there, it's okay." Wendy suddenly stopped crying, and her eyes bugged out.

"Where…is he?" she whispered. Craig smiled.

"A strip club…downtown. Why?" He put on his "perplexed" face.

"Show me! _NOW_." Bebe tensed up.

"Uh, Wendy? Are you…okay?" Wendy gave her best friend a devilish grin.

"Like I said before…I've never been calmer."

* * *

What could they have planned? Heh, only I know… Muwahahahaha-cough. Ahem. Trust me, though, it'll be good. Read, review, and give any advice! It's most appreciated. Thank-you! 


End file.
